


See-Through

by vassilissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, F/M, Physical Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassilissa/pseuds/vassilissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You swallow your anger and you crawl and this is all very real.</p><p>You are not yourself, but instead many things, all very alive and responsive to him.</p><p>You suppose it's like—</p><p>Magic, probably. All magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See-Through

**Author's Note:**

> This will be very dark and Hermione is a bit out of character but only because of her addiction so you've been warned. Kudos and comments are very cool and make me smile xx

I.

 

A silenced scream.

 

Blue see-through eyes.

 

A caress and then—

 

Then pain, of course. Welcomed pain.

 

 

II.

 

“You don't get anything now.”

 

“You've disobeyed me and put yourself at _risk_. You don't get anything now.”

 

 

III.

 

She's been unconscious for days when she feels that tingle.

 

A _touch_.

 

And it's almost like it passes over her, like it's teasing her, like its master, but—

 

It's _there_. After all these days.

 

Hermione moans and let's it take over.

 

She hides her smile.

 

 

IV.

 

She cannot focus on anything it seems.

 

She nearly gets hurt while practicing hexes with Avery, and his hard eyes never leave her face after that.

 

Even when it's his turn to duel. He throws her side glances and doesn't smirk when his best friend, his best _follower_ , is defeated in _three_ moves.

 

It's  _his_ fault she's so distracted, really.

 

Ever since he introduced her to—

 

But really she just wants _more_.

 

And he cannot give her more.

 

 

V.

 

She cannot breathe and she cannot stop shaking and she cannot release her hold on him.

 

That's what he craves the _most_.

 

So he gives it to her. His magic. He lets it embrace her and caress all of her—

 

He lets it _possess_ her.

 

And in return she becomes his. All over.

 

His magic is strong and cruel and painful—

 

It makes her scream. It makes her _breathless_.

 

Her magic quivered at first, it resisted. It _protected_ her.

 

But he took care of that.

 

 

VI.

 

She's on her knees, naked and needy.

 

He watches her, smoking a cigarette, dress-shirt unbuttoned.

 

She drinks out of a half-empty bottle of _Firewhiskey_ and she's touching herself for him.

 

She's his _wife_ and this is all that's left of her.

 

He takes the bottle from her hands with a flick of his wrist and levels her with a sober gaze.

 

“Enough.”

 

She scowls and stops moving her hand. He growls.

 

“You're the one that drunk most of it.” His empty glass is proof enough.

 

“I can't always supervise you, Hermione.”

 

“I'm not a child.”

 

“I never said you were. Don't stop,” he orders.

 

He leans forth, resting his elbows at his knees, fingers tangled together. He's exhausting her, he knows, she can't take much of his magic now, but he pushes still.

 

She moans and it's almost crazy to her that he can make her feel this way without even touching her himself.

 

His magic circles her neck now and invisible fingers are choking her.

 

She continues working on herself.

 

He's in her mind now. Whispering and taking and _giving_ —

 

She loves it all.

 

 

VII.

 

He never uses his hands in that way.

 

But he always likes to feel her skin when it's red.

 

Her mouth is bloody and her neck is bruised. She takes it.

 

His knuckles are _there_ and they reassure, they feel, they _stroke_.

 

She's writhing underneath him, angry, furious but receptive.

 

And that is how they are, how they work, how they _don't_ work, how they try, how he loves her, how she _needs_ him—

 

That's why she did it. To feel this thrill; the adrenaline pumping through her veins, chanting _yes, yes, yes_ and she doesn't dare to open her eyes, doesn't dare keep him out of her head, because this is what he does, what he allows her to see, what he sees of her, of _them_ , and it's enough, it's _always_ enough, even when he hits her, even when she thinks _this is the last time_ —

 

It can never be the last time. This is it until she _dies_.

 

“Fucking hold on to me. Why are you _slipping_?”

 

Her mind is messed-up colors in a dripping canvas now, she cannot comprehend his thoughts, his visions, his words...

 

She's _fainting_.

 

He's hit her too hard.

 

“ _Hermione!_ ”

 

Magic can't save him now.

 

 

VIII.

 

“Why do you always do this to me? _Huh_?” He's shaking her through and through. She's laughing.

 

“Do you _like_ seeing me like this? Do you enjoy testing me? _Answer_ me, Hermione, fucking _Hell._ ”

 

“Yes. Yes I _do_.” She can't stop laughing, it's hysteric and it's turning into tears—

 

Avery is standing next to the door. He's the one that found her.

 

_Too many pills. Didn't even know who I was._

 

“You cannot continue doing this. You're _never_ taking these again.”

 

“Yes, _my Lord_ ,” she says and she rubs against him.

 

Avery looks away.

 

He grabs hold of her waist and stops her. His knee is pressed against her entrance. She moans. She tastes her tears.

 

She's turning mad.

 

Her eyes are looking through him when she opens them. He's _scared_. She cannot be doing this to him. She said she can take it. He knew she could—she still can.

 

“Don't patronize me, _witch_.”

 

Tom gives Avery a look and he's gone.

 

“If you wish to die, I can kill you. _I_. Not yourself, you understand me? You'll _never_ dare to try again.”

 

She's laughing again and kissing his arm. His hand, his palm, his _fingers_.

 

When she looks at him in the eyes, she's fucking _gone_.

 

 

IX.

 

She takes off his family ring.

 

Walks over to him in the middle of a meeting, wearing a silk robe and nothing else, and shyly gives it to him.

 

Avery's looking worried, while the others don't dare speak.

 

He doesn't take his eyes off of it, where she leaves it, and she's biting her lip, back against the wall, examining the faces of his minions.

 

It disgusts her.

 

She wants _more_.

 

“The reason,” he demands, never turning to look at her face.

 

It's been weeks since he gave her his power; his _magic_.

 

She cannot do anything else, cannot think of anything else.

 

She just wants him.

 

She hopes this will get a reaction out of him.

 

“We should be going—” Abraxas starts to say, but Tom interrupts him.

 

“Stay the fuck down.”

 

“I want a reason, Hermione. Why are you giving me your ring.”

 

His eyes are blazing and the fire cannot be washed away by the blue. It cannot freeze. It can only _intensify_.

 

She has cut her hair. It's shoulder-length now.

 

He cannot recognize the witch he met in sixth year. It's been too long.

 

“It is not mine,” she replies in a quiet voice, playing with the hem of the robe.

 

Tom inhales calmly, turning around his chair so he can fully look at the mesmerizing mad shell of his woman.

 

It almost hurts. How empty her eyes are.

 

“It _is_ yours, I gave it to you. It belongs to you now.”

 

“It doesn't feel like it's mine,” she argues and goes to sit on Avery's lap.

 

Avery doesn't dare to move. He looks at his Lord, his _friend_ , and sighs.

 

 _This is what dark magic does_ , he says to him silently, _this is what it has done to your wife_.

 

“You've taken away my friends, Harry and Neville and Luna and Ginny… You took away my boyfriend...” She's looking at Abraxas now, like she isn't there anymore.

 

He can't take her being away anymore. It's been _too long_.

 

“I haven't done anything. You know this. This man you're talking about—it's not me. I'm not him.”

 

“But you will be!” she yells suddenly and Avery holds her so she doesn't lash out at Tom.

 

Tom feels her magic explode. It's a wave, and it doesn't last long, but he can't breathe after it.

 

“And I've done everything I could to prevent you from being this—this _pathetic_ monster you turn into in the future, but you've _dried_ me up, Tom Riddle. I cannot think of anything else but _darkness_. But _you_.”

 

And she cries then, in Avery's embrace and Tom doesn't move an inch because he's scared of what he'll do.

 

She has _humiliated_ him.

 

She has teared him apart.

 

She will never be the same again.

 

And he _still_ loves her, damn his reputation.

 

He still fucking adores every _fiber_ of her.

 

 

X.

 

“I have nothing else to give you,” he states when she's tucked in bed.

 

He has drunk and he has smoked and he has destroyed and this is worse than dying.

 

Worse than splitting your soul.

 

She faces away from him, naked as she always is, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

“I'm sorry,” she manages to say, voice raspy from crying.

 

“ _Nothing else_. You can never talk to me again, you can screw Avery all you want, I don't care, I'm not giving you anything else.”

 

“Aren't you sorry?” She sits up suddenly, looking at him like a little girl, eyes wide and red, breasts beautiful like always.

 

“No, I'm not. I'm done.”

 

“It is not my fault. You never warned me—”

 

The glass breaks over her head. Pieces of it fall into her hair and around her. She watches them.

 

“Is not what I _do_ a warning? Am I not warning enough?!” His voice is chilling the way it echoes through the room and then falls and hides into the corners.

 

Hermione doesn't blink.

 

“You're beautiful.”

 

“'S that why you married me?” Bitter. It's _bitter_.

 

“I married you because I'm _in love with you_ ,” she answers. “I married you and I changed the future.”

 

He hates her then. He. _Hates_.Her.

 

He's never going to love anything— _anyone_ —the way he loves her.

 

Obsessively. Unconditionally.

 

He cannot die and he will never let her hurt the way he suffered his way to immortality.

 

She will _die_ someday and maybe that's how he becomes the monster she always talks of.

 

 

XI.

 

She crawls away from him.

 

He's _cursed_ her.

 

She'll curse him ten times worse.

 

 

XII.

 

She's _imperiused_ Abraxas into having sex with her. In their _bed_.

 

She's not the Lord's Lady if she's always acting half mad, is she? She can be _revengeful_.

 

She can make him _hurt_. No matter the consequences.

 

Abraxas is pounding into her when he walks in. He stops on his tracks. Looks directly at her. Sees her smirking and moaning his _servant's_ goddamn _name_.

 

He's blind then.

 

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

 

Abraxas falls limp onto Hermione. She laughs before throwing him off of her.

 

 _Five Crucio's._ That's how much she had to endure the other day. Five _Crucio's_ like a pathetic little dumb witch.

 

He was _drunk_.

 

He can make the cruciatus curse pleasurable when he fucks her, but he went too far. He _scarred_ her.

 

She will never forgive him.

 

“Will you make me hurt?” she asks in a faux hopeful voice.

 

He looked ready to kill her.

 

“I kill too much for you,” is what he says and that's it.

 

He leaves the room.

 

 

XIII.

 

“You think you can just _throw_ it in my face?”

 

His magic is _ruthless_ , slithering all over her, driving her over the edge.

 

“You're _damnation_ , Hermione. You can bring me to my knees and you certainly do use this to your advantage. But you're little game has gone too far this time and I'm afraid I'll have to punish you.”

 

“I'm not afraid.” She smiles. “ _Show_ me.”

 

 

XIV.

 

She finds a way out of the mess she has created.

 

 

XV.

 

“I could be gentle.” It's a whisper.

 

“I don't want you to. I married Lord Voldemort, not _Lestrange_.”

 

He laughs and it's a deep sound that fills her insides.

 

“What can I give you?” He lifts her by the waist. Traps her against her wall.

 

“What can I _not_ give you?” he rhetorically wonders.

 

She grins. He kisses her.

 

 

XVI.

 

You are not yourself.

 

You do not care.

 

 

XVII.

 

A silenced scream.

 

Blue see-through eyes.

 

A caress and then—

 

Then pain, of course. Welcomed pain.

 


End file.
